Page 58 of Destined for the Fae King

Lysandir has a hand clasped over his eyes, fingertips massaging his temples and ruffling his auburn hair. Tharin’s face is grim, but his stance is casual, not what I’d generally expect of a guard in front of his prince.

With a deep sigh, Lysandir drops his hand. “I’ll have a discussion with my brother.”

Tharin nods and glances toward me, his head canting to the side. “Should I leave you?”

The prince looks my way, and only then do I realize the question was directed at me.Oh.Lysandir makes his way toward me in silence, and a flush burns up my cheeks. He stops abruptly near the corner of my desk. A grin lifts one corner of his lips.

“I see you got my gift.” He runs a finger over a piece of paper where I’d doodled a few random designs before realizing I wasn’t in a state to write anything.

“I sent a thank you note.” I eye Tharin.

“Which was delivered.” He raises his hands in surrender.

A huff of breath catches in Lysandir’s throat. “If you gave it to Tharin, I’m sure it’s waiting for me in my quarters. I haven’t had the chance to look at much since I returned this evening.”

Oh, lovely. He just got back, and I had to run right into him with my problems. I’m sure that’s exactly what he wanted.

“I think we should be fine on our own,” Lysandir says to Tharin. Then he glances at me. “Unless Mira disagrees.”

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. He intends to stay? Warmth spreads out from the center of my chest. That little voice whispering in my head from earlier is suddenly so much louder.

Bed. Prince. Room. Dark.

Alone.

“We’re fine,” I whisper, unsure what else to say.

“Let me know if you need anything.” He and Lysandir hold one another’s gazes, some silent communication passing between them. Then Tharin looks at me. “Either of you.”

The moment he turns to leave, the atmosphere in the room turns thick and full. It’s harder to breath, even harder to think. It takes everything I have not to squeak or leap away when Lysandir takes a seat on the edge of the bed just a foot away from me. The tension jumping between us is palpable.

His shoulders hunch on another sigh. “I should ask you not to speak to the others about what you witnessed tonight.”

Should…

“But?” I ask into the heavy silence.

He shakes his head. “I’m not sure, exactly, but I don’t want to demand that of you.”

“Oh.” A risk, to be sure. I could undermine his brother in a few words. Send this competition into chaos. And yet, he won’t ask me not to share it?

“Though…” He winces. “Perhaps you could wait until after the ball tomorrow if you do tell any of the others?”

Right. Because upsetting the competition is one thing, but potentially causing a scene in front of the other courts could be absolutely disastrous.

“I will. Or won’t.” My brows scrunch. “I won’t tell anyone before the ball. I can promise that.”

“Good. Thank you.” He visibly swallows, tension radiating from him. “I’m sorry you had to stumble upon that tonight. I wish you could have avoided such revelations.”

“It’s…” Not okay, exactly. That wouldn’t be right, but I can’t regret it. “I’m actually glad I did.”

“Glad?” Lysandir rears back like I’m a snake about to bite.

My head bobs. “It was shocking. Uncomfortable. It…hurt. But I’d rather know than continue on in ignorance believing that the king might really fall in love with one of us or is doing this because he truly wants a wife. I’d heard rumors. I think many of us have, but having it confirmed… Well, it puts things in a different light. But I’m still glad I can see that rather than walking in blind, you know?”

He’s silent for a minute, staring at nothing, before he looks over at me. “Knowing the truth isn’t always easier. You know about my visions.” He leans back on his palms, one placed on either side of him. When I nod, he continues. “Seeing the future, the truth of what’s to come, is often a lot harder than not knowing. Once you know, you’re stuck with it. You can’t pretend it could be some other way. Well, I suppose you can try, but you’ll always know the truth deep down. It would be just deluding yourself.” His voice drops to a whisper, and he glances away again. “Hoping for what isn’t and what cannot be.”

I have the sudden urge to hug him, but that would probably be inappropriate. He’s a prince. I could end up marrying his brother. And then there’s that awkward kiss and the fact that he literally told me he already has someone he cares for. I swerve my thoughts in a new direction. Besides, I don’t know if he’s a hugger.

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